Р. Рождественский
Above my head are blinking stars,
And hands are stretching to the fire.
How scary is for me that every person starts
To open eyes without day admire.
To breath. Not to run down tales,
To go in poems like into the church.
To catch a Phoenix - to make envy males.
To catch a Golden Fish - it's death to watch.
And hands are stretching to the fire.
How scary is for me that every person starts
To open eyes without day admire.
To breath. Not to run down tales,
To go in poems like into the church.
To catch a Phoenix - to make envy males.
To catch a Golden Fish - it's death to watch.
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